Merry Christmas and Good Riddance
by bubbleteadesu
Summary: Gakuen AU; In which Arthur is forced to spend a day inside with his annoying roommate, Alfred because of an unexpected snowstorm.  -full summary inside!


**Title:** Merry Christmas and Good Riddance (Well, shame, coz I'm not going anywhere without you)  
**Characters/Pairings:** America/England  
**Rating: **K+  
**Summary:** Gakuen AU; Every year, it's always the same: Alfred leaves for the winter holidays while his roommate, Arthur, enjoys them in their dorm without his company. But when a snowstorm keeps Alfred from going home, Arthur is forced to spend a day stuck inside with him; a day that involves teaching Alfred how to knit, sharing bed space with him (not what you think it is!) and that traditional mistletoe kiss (all done only because of tradition, of course!). And Arthur realizes that being stuck inside with your terribly annoying roommate isn't so bad after all.  
**Warning:** none  
**AN:** My secret santa gift for bluubun for the USUK SS event at livejournal. Their prompt was: _Alfred and Arthur spending winter recess in their dorm room all alone together due to not being able to go home because of a snowstorm._. I think I went a _bit_ out of the prompt. Whoops |D.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

"Hey Arthur, I'm going now!"

Arthur glanced up from the novel he was reading. Alfred grinned at him from beside the partly-open door of their shared dorm room, all covered up in a winter coat and scarf, with the red knapsack carrying all the things he needed for the holidays behind his back.

"Good riddance then." Arthur replied, resuming his reading. "It's a shame you'll be back after the holidays but I guess a man can't have everything."

"Heeeeeey-"

"Go on, go on." Arthur cut through Alfred's beginning whine. He shooed Alfred away with his free hand, his eyes never leaving the page he was on for even a minute. "You'll miss your train if you don't move along."

"Hey Arthur," Alfred's next words were said so hastily that Arthur could hardly make sense of them.

He closed his book and narrowed his eyes at Alfred. "What?"

Alfred scratched the back of his head in a show of awkwardness. He smiled sheepishly at Arthur (and was it just Arthur or was there a faint flush coloring Alfred's cheeks?).

He took a deep breath. "I said, do you want to go home with me for the holidays?"

"I mean," Alfred added excitedly, rushing his words again, so fast that Arthur could barely catch up. "in the two years that we've been roommates, I've never seen you leave for the holidays and well, why not come home with me instead? My mom makes to-die-for mince pies and roast turkey and-"

"It's fine, really." Arthur interrupted softly. "Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. I'd rather stay here."

"Oh." Arthur winced inwardly at the look of disappointment that flashed quickly across Alfred's face (Why was he so easy for Arthur to read sometimes?). "Goodbye then, Arthur."

Arthur picked up his novel again and did not look up from it, not until he heard the soft click of the door that signaled that Alfred had left. 

* * *

The snow had been falling steadily for several days now but it was only minutes after Alfred's departure that the snowstorm arrived.

Arthur had long ago given up on his novel, and he now sat by the window, watching the storm as it released its fury on the school grounds (Though honestly, there was nothing to watch. Everything was just covered in a thick white blanket of snow).

He tried hard to close his mind to the worry-filled thoughts crowding his head but he couldn't. Arthur had always had an over-active imagination coupled with a pessimistic streak and it was working full-time now as he sat alone in his dark dorm room.

"Alfred surely must be safely in the train now." Arthur muttered to himself. Still, bothersome what-if's continued to fill his head.

Like, _What if no one came for Alfred when he reaches the train station?_ or _What if Alfred hasn't reached the train station yet and he's still wandering out there, lost in the storm until he collapses because of hypothermia and-_

Arthur jumped up and grabbed his cell phone from the nearby study desk. Shaking, he dialed a number.

"Goddammit, answer the phone, you git!" Arthur muttered over and over again. He had his free hand curled up in a fist, clenched tighter and tighter with every succeeding ring.

Alfred answered on the seventh ring; Arthur realized he had been holding his breath.

"Alfred!" he demanded urgently. "Where are _you_?" 

* * *

Arthur found Alfred in the dorm lounge, buried in an old patched up coach. He was busy flipping through a dog-eared comic book and did not seem to notice Arthur's arrival.

"So you were here all along." Arthur said coolly, masking the immense relief that spread inside him with a warmth that could rival the fireplace crackling in the corner.

"Uh-huh." Alfred nodded without looking up. "You don't really expect me to leave in that storm, do you?"

"Why, may I ask, did you not return to our room?" Arthur asked, feigning nonchalance.

Alfred shrugged. "Figured I'd stay here 'til the storm's over."

"Oh. So you're planning to stay here until tomorrow afternoon?"

"_Tomorrow afternoon?_" Alfred looked up suddenly. "I thought, I thought, it'd be over by tonight at least!"

Arthur shrugged. "That's what the radio said so…" He walked forward and picked up Alfred's knapsack from where it lay on Alfred's feet. "So, are you coming back now?"

"Geez." He heard Alfred grumble behind him. "Sometimes he likes me around and sometimes he doesn't. I don't _understand_."

Arthur slung Alfred's bag over his shoulder and walked out of the lounge, highly amused. 

* * *

"Arthur, I'm soooooo bored!"

Alfred, who was lying flat on his stomach, buried his face in a pillow and began pounding on the bed in a childish manner.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm terribly sorry we're stuck together because of that storm but _please_, it's not my job to entertain you."

Alfred sat up, pouting. "Why aren't _you_ bored, Arthur?"

"Because," Arthur replied, "I'm busying myself with something more productive than throwing a fit."

And indeed he was. Arthur had now completely set aside his novel and had now picked up his knitting. He rocked his chair back and forth gently, to match the rhythmic movement of the needles in his hands.

"Arthur, I've got it!"

Arthur grabbed the edge of the nearby study desk quickly to stop his chair from toppling over, stabbing his palm in a sharp corner in the process. He narrowed his eyes at Alfred. "Don't shout, will you? It breaks my concentration."

Alfred beamed at him, that familiar twinkle in his eye that Arthur had learned to fear. He could already feel the dread that always came when Alfred had that look settling down in the pit of his stomach.

"Arthur, you've got to teach me how to knit!"

Oh _no_. 

* * *

Arthur watched Alfred knit (or at least, _try_ to), highly amused.

"You must be _extremely_ bored to actually want to knit." Arthur commented wryly. Surprisingly, Alfred ignored him, too focused was he on his work.

Arthur had never seen Alfred like this, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, two large knitting needles held awkwardly in his hands.

"What are you making?" he asked casually.

"Gloves" Alfred replied. He muttered a curse under his breath as the needle hitched on a knot in the yarn.

Arthur stopped himself from laughing upon catching the look of frustration on Alfred's face.

"Here, let me help." Arthur sat beside Alfred on the floor. He took Alfred's hands (ignoring the blush that suddenly appeared on Alfred's cheeks as he did so. The situation was already awkward as it is.) and began to guide the needles along.

"Why gloves?" Arthur asked nonchalantly as he continued to guide Alfred's hands along, in and out, in and out. "I didn't know you needed another pair."

"It's not for me." Alfred muttered, the color in his cheeks darkening unmistakably. Arthur decided it prudent not to ask any more questions.

"There you go." Arthur finally said after a while, letting go of Alfred's hands. "I reckon you can do it by yourself now."

"Of course!" Alfred replied, the confident smirk back on his face. He jumped back into his knitting again, the clash of needles punctuated every now and then by curses (Arthur tried his best to keep a straight face).

And then there was (a rather comical, in Arthur's opinion) cry of frustration, and there was Alfred in the middle of the floor, caught in a web of yarn from head to torso (how that happened, none of them could tell) and laughter, rich and deep, filled the room.

And judging from the look of shock on Alfred's face, the strange sound had actually come from _Arthur_.

Arthur quickly composed himself and coughed pointedly, as a huge grin started to spread across Alfred's face.

"So, you, uhmm, need any help?"

* * *

Soon enough, the afternoon gave way to the night, though it was hardly noticeable; everything outside was still covered in white, white and white.

Alfred had grown uncharacteristically quiet, still concentrating on putting on the finishing touches on his rather knobby, but still usable, gloves. Arthur, on the other hand, had decided to start on his holiday homework. (Further proof of how focused Alfred was with his knitting? He didn't tease Arthur about this, not at all. It was a good idea to teach him how to knit, after all.)

Their focused silence continued for a while, until it was interrupted by a loud and hungry rumble.

Arthur looked up from his work and raised an eyebrow quizzically at Alfred.

Alfred chuckled sheepishly. "Whoops?" 

* * *

And so, off they went to they went to the dormitory's kitchen to see what dinner they could find there.

"Please," Alfred pleaded as Arthur opened cupboards to see if they held any potential meal. "don't cook. I don't think my stomach can handle it at the moment."

Arthur shot him a sharp glare and Alfred said no more.

In the end, all the could find was a can of pork and beans and a loaf of cold bread.

"And I thought after all these years, they'd start restocking the pantry." Arthur muttered disapprovingly.

"Why should they?" Alfred replied through a mouthful of pork and beans. "They know we boys would rather eat cafeteria food than cook. And besides this is awesome; makes me feel like I'm out there, eating dinner in the wilderness or something."

Arthur rolled his eyes and began eating his own dinner. 

* * *

After dinner, they dumped their dirty dishes in the sink (there'd be time to wash those tomorrow) then headed back to their room.

To their great disappointment, the heater had conked out while they were gone.

"No wonder it'd gotten this cold." Alfred said, giving an involuntary shiver.

"Well, I guess it's time to sleep now." Arthur said with a shrug.

"It's not like we can do anything more in this cold." He replied to Alfred's questioning look. "We'll just have to pile on our clothing and hope the storm's over by tomorrow."

"But," Alfred protested, "aren't you supposed to _not_ sleep when it's freezing? So you won't die of hypothermia or something?"

"We're not going to freeze to death here, you git." Arthur replied with a roll of his eyes. "It's cold but it's not _that_ cold. Just remember to pile on the pajamas. Alright?"

"Fine." Alfred sighed. "Good night, Arthur." 

* * *

Arthur was still wide awake.

It was only when he had grown tired of trying to see patterns in the cracks in the ceiling did he realize that he wasn't alone. From beside him, he could hear Alfred rolling about his bed, back and forth, back and forth.

He got up and walked over to the other bed. Alfred's eyes were shut tight but it was obvious that he was still awake with the way he kept on rolling over, his nails digging deeper in the blanket wrapped around him. Despite the thick blanket, he was still shivering violently.

Arthur bit his lower lip, worried; he'd forgotten how much Alfred hated the cold.

He bent forward and placed a hand on Alfred's forehead.

Alfred's eyes flew open in surprise. "Jesus, Arthur, your hand's freezing." He said, obviously relieved. "For a moment, I thought a ghost was on me or something."

"Shush." Arthur said sternly. "I'm trying to see if you have a fever."

He straightened up, relieved. "You're not sick, just cold." He walked over to his bed, pulled off his blanket and draped it over Alfred. "There you go. Sleep tight now."

Alfred sat up suddenly, to Arthur's surprise. "I can't have this!" He protested. "You won't have anything to keep you warm now."

Arthur shrugged. "It's nothing. I'm used to the cold."

But before he could move away, Arthur found himself yanked back harshly, falling backwards and landing beside Alfred on his bed.

"What the-" Arthur spluttered out.

"There you go!" Alfred said cheerfully, draping the two blankets over both of them. "Now none of us would have to be cold."

Alfred wrapped an arm around Arthur and Arthur wondered if he still needed a blanket after all, what with the sudden heat rushing up to his face. 

* * *

Arthur woke up to several sharp jabs to his ribs.

"Ow, ow! Quit doing that, will you?"

"Sorry." Alfred murmured from beside him.

Arthur opened his eyes. It was still dark, though the storm outside seemed to have weakened already. The wind wasn't blowing as furiously as before though it was still snowing quite hard.

He checked the alarm clock on the bedside table: 3:00 am.

"Geez, Alfred." He muttered irritably. "What'd you wake me up for?"

"Nothing." Arthur couldn't see it but somehow he could feel that Alfred had this huge grin on his face. "Just…thanks, I guess. For giving me your blanket and sleeping with me and all that."

Arthur buried his face in his pillow. His face felt and probably looked like an overcooked lobster: red and very, _very_ warm.

"Shush." He muttered. "Don't make this any more embarrassing than it already is."

Alfred chuckled. "G'night Arthur."

"Good night." 

* * *

Arthur woke up the next morning, this time to someone jumping on the bed. He could feel his body bouncing along to whoever it was that thought the bed would make a good trampoline (obviously it was Alfred but Arthur liked to give the benefit of the doubt).

"Quit it, will you!" Arthur snarled. "I don't need bloody motion sickness this early in the morning, okay?"

"Sorry." Alfred replied sheepishly. "Just…wake up, will you? I made breakfast!"

Slowly, Arthur opened his eyes. Alfred beamed at him, holding out a plate of fried sausages and eggs.

"Looks like the kitchen's not that poorly stocked after all." Alfred said with a grin.

Arthur sat up and took the plate from Alfred. He stared at it in wonder. "You can…cook?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Just because I'd rather eat McDonald's all the days of my life doesn't mean I can't whip up something when the situations calls for it. I _can_ cook; nothing fancy but yes, I can.

Alfred sat down on the bed beside Arthur as Arthur ate his breakfast.

"That's not the only thing I found when I went to the kitchen actually." Alfred said nonchalantly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. And that was when he realized that Alfred still had one hand hidden behind his back.

"Well," Arthur asked curiously, "what is it?"

Alfred took out his hand from behind his back and held out several pieces of grass tied haphazardly with a red ribbon.

Arthur stared at it. "Is that _mistletoe_?"

Alfred chuckled awkwardly. "I guess. It was hanging by our doorway."

"Who, in their right mind, would hang mistletoe above our door?" Arthur muttered darkly.

He resumed eating his breakfast while Alfred grew unusually quiet.

"Hey Arthur," He finally said thoughtfully. "I feel we should do something about that mistletoe."

"Throw it away then." Arthur replied, slicing up the last of his fried eggs.

"No." Alfred replied.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you propose we do with it then?"

Alfred shrugged. "I don't know…don't kill me Arthur, but isn't there some sort of Christmas tradition attached to the mistletoe?"

Arthur almost spat out his breakfast. "If you mean the kissing under the mistletoe thing then I would like to remind you that we are_nowhere_ underneath a mistletoe."

"But we would have been, if I hadn't thought of yanking this thing off."

"Then good." Arthur replied. "You spared us from further embarrassment."

"But we're breaking tradition!" Alfred insisted.

"Since when have you been so adamant about following tradition?"

Alfred turned a bright shade of red. "This is all for tradition, alright? What are _you_ implying?"

"_What_?" Arthur shot back. "I'm not implying anything! Why are you so-"

But then Arthur found himself pulled forward suddenly, falling fast until his lips met Alfred's.

And so they kissed, and their kiss might have went a _little_ longer than what was expected of an underneath-the-mistletoe kiss.

"It's all for Christmas tradition." Alfred said hastily when they pulled away.

"Of course." Arthur replied breathlessly. "I wouldn't have done it otherwise."

"Of course." Alfred agreed. Arthur was glad to see that Alfred's face had turned a bright shade of scarlet. At least, he wasn't alone in feeling (and looking) like the overcooked lobster. 

* * *

Afterwards, Arthur hid underneath his blanket for the rest of the morning. No one had taught him how to face that-roommate-of-yours-you-just-happened-to-kiss-because-of-some-mistletoe and so he decided that it was probably best to avoid facing said roommate at all.

It was only when Alfred called him to come to the window, quick, did Arthur (hesitantly) step out from underneath his blanket and approach Alfred.

"Look!" Alfred said as Arthur pulled aside the curtain to get a better view. "The storm's over."

And indeed, it was. The strong wind was all but gone and the snow was still falling but gently this time, without the fury of yesterday.

"Looks like I can go home earlier than expected!" Alfred said cheerfully.

Arthur remained silent. 

* * *

"Hey Arthur, I'm going now!"

This time, Arthur did not bother to look up from his novel anymore.

"Good riddance then and hopefully, no snowstorm will stop you from leaving me alone this time."

Arthur waited for that familiar click of the door that signaled that Alfred had left but there was none. He looked up from his reading.

Alfred stood by the partly-open door, smiling at Arthur sheepishly. "I, uhmm, left my Physics textbook on our desk. Can you get it for me, Arthur, _please_?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. He got up and walked towards the desk. But there was no Physics textbook there.

Instead, there was the familiar pair of knobby knitted gloves and a note written in Alfred's childish handwriting. _to Arthur:_

Please, please, please, will you spend the holidays with me? I won't be able to celebrate Christmas properly knowing my darling roommate spends the holidays in a room with a heater that conks out and eats pork and beans for dinner. So please come with me because, seriously? I'm not going anywhere without you.

From: Alfred

"Plus," Alfred added from behind him. "My mom makes to-die-for mince pies and her turkey is _heavenly_ and-"

"Fine, fine!" Arthur interrupted, laughing. "I'm going with you. Happy now?"

"Great!" Alfred cheered. "I knew calling you _darling_ would do the trick." (Arthur rolled his eyes at this.) He placed the gloves over Arthur's hands. "Now pack up because I'm sure you can't wait to get a taste of my mom's mince pies!" 


End file.
